


Bet on it

by cyaneidae



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Banter, Betting, F/M, Lots of it, Slow Burn, eventual Hayffie, ridiculous bets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 00:52:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyaneidae/pseuds/cyaneidae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Princess, I don't think you quite understand the rules of betting. Each party not only has to have an equal chance of winning, but also an equally desirable potential reward."</p>
<p>-A collection of one-shots illustrating the evolution of Effie and Haymitch's relationship, set around the ridiculous bets the two make with each other every year--from their first Games together onward. Eventual Hayffie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bet on it

**Author's Note:**

> See the end notes for a more detailed explanation; here's the quick and dirty on this fic:
> 
> -they're one-shots, but all are/will be connected (at the moment, they'll be in chronological order)  
> -slow burn (sorry), so if you're looking for fluff/romance it will take awhile  
> -as a result from the above, the beginning chapters will be H/E friendship (if that)  
> -there might be quite a bit of description/character thought (I read a lot of Tolkien/GRRM, my apologies)
> 
> Lastly: this is my first H/E fic, so I hope the characterization comes out alright. I also hope I finish this collection within the year, haha. :)

When she first flounced into the penthouse with the champagne, he was sprawled on the sofa with a whiskey bottle--barely a gulp left _\--_ in hand, staring mindlessly as highlights from last night danced across the TV screen. Before moving to the kitchen she stopped to take in his appearance (stringy mop he called hair, wrinkled and halfway unbuttoned shirt, pants that had what looked like grease stains on them...and bare feet that definitely were partially producing that putrid stench she'd opened the door to), briefly wondering if he'd tried to become one with the furniture, for all he'd moved in the last 24 hours.

Haymitch was ready to completely ignore her (the new tactic he'd decided to employ after learning excessive provoking only led to shrill whining, a sound he ranked above jabberjays on the painful scale while he was hungover) when a loud clang (he winced) drew his attention to the bottle she'd set on the kitchen counter.

"You have impeccable timing, princess--I'm just about to finish this--" he waved the whiskey bottle up "--and that sure looks like a perfect encore." He squinted at the tall bottle, pretty positive it was one of those expensive brands that he'd gotten from the Capitol after winning (he was also pretty sure it hadn't lasted more than a day once he got back to Twelve). 

She gave him a deep frown before structuring her face into one of those fake smiles he hated so much (one of these days her face would freeze like that, making it a perfect carnival attraction between her too-wide smile and the layer of cake batter she insisted on crusting her face with).

"It's _Effie,_ and you'll just have to wait for once in your life to enjoy _this_  bottle." Her face had taken on an expectant look, as if she was daring him to ask why he had to wait to enjoy such a treat (ha! like he would give her that satisfaction).

"Whatever you say, _princess."_ He turned his head back toward the muted TV, fingers grasping the air blindly as he tried to find the remote to preemptively drone out what was sure to be a 20 minute lecture on some incredibly boring plan of hers (he only succeeded at knocking the nearly empty bowl of chips over in his refusal to move or look where he was grasping).

"Well, I suppose you'll just miss out then when I open this after the win."

"You must have a lot of money to burn if you plan on buying that after the Games end every year. Next time buy me a couple of these--" he waved the whiskey in the air again "--and I might even be inclined to--"

"No, you idiot, it's for when District 12 has another winner," he watched as she pursed her lips and adjusted her earrings, "And at this rate, no thanks to you."

"Sweetheart, the day there is another District 12 winner is the day I stop drinking." He let out a harsh chuckle as he tried to imagine what that day would look like. Frankly, he couldn't imagine it.

He then noticed the gleam that had crept into her eyes at his last statement (despite the sarcastic nickname and his obvious scorn). "Care to bet on that?"

"Princess, I don't think you quite understand the rules of betting. Each party not only has to have an equal chance of winning, but also an equally desirable potential reward. Seeing the Capitol devour another District 12 victor would only make me grab an extra bottle...the finest whiskey they've got over there, since we're living in fantasyland right now. I'm just as likely to see you without that wig and face plaster and--" here he gestured at her clothes "--that whole getup as there is likely to be another winner from this district."

Unfortunately for him, this did nothing to defer the annoyingly persistent Escort...the vicious gleam in her eyes only magnified, if anything.

"Well then, you'll perfectly fine with betting this: you go an entire Games without drinking and I will _personally_ visit your home before the Victory Tour, dressed as any typical District 12 woman. It will be a fabulous adventure!" She smiled widely, exposing her obviously bleached teeth. 

This gave him pause, and he was silent for a few moments as he attempted to picture the unlikely vision (she watched as his face scrunched up and his mouth curved into a painful frown). 

"Add a full-course meal that you cook for me to that picture--oh and bring some of that whiskey they gave to the District 2 winner last year--and you've got yourself a bet." He couldn't believe himself, actually considering her deal. Good thing it would never come to fruition. 

Effie snorted, a sound he never thought he would hear coming from her. "Now you're simply not following your own rules. All you've given up is drink and I'm catering to your every whim. Try again, Haymitch."

"Just a pasta dinner, then. With some Capitol gin."

"How about you clean your home instead?" She'd stepped into his home to introduce herself before the Games this year and had been horrified at the sight before her (and this had been before she'd seen the man himself). She wouldn't make _that_ mistake again...at least, without being assured the house had been fully cleaned...and fumigated.

"I'll clean my house if you cook the full course meal and bring the whiskey...and leave the Capitol behind." He realized what he said about a second after he said it and rushed to clarify: "The Capitol mask, I mean. All the clothes and makeup and shit."

Effie considered him, glancing from the stained pants up to his cool gray eyes...eyes that looked oddly focused despite the hangover he was clearly experiencing at the moment. "So your clean home and clean liver during the Games for my demonstration of District 12 domesticity in outfit and act?"

"Don't forget the fantasy of a District 12 winner."

"The reality."

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

" _Effie_. Are we in agreement?" She watched him closely, noting that he looked like he was about to pass out (again, if his clothes and position on the sofa indicated anything).

"Fine. You've got a bet, princess." Her face lit up and he glanced towards the champagne, mourning it already.  

"It's a shame such a nice bottle of champagne will go to waste. Next time give the money to me instead and spare yourself the trouble. Or spend it on a bottle of blonde hair dye and pay the rest to have someone burn all your wigs. Maybe they'll be able to fix the look permanently plastered on your face while they're at it." This time his hand found the remote as he felt around and between the couch cushions. He quickly pressed the button to un-mute the TV, effectively drowning out Effie's next words. 

"Argh!! You are _unbelievable_ \--in fact, you're most definitely the most insufferable, deaf, callous man I have ever encountered! I cannot believe I ever considered it an honor to work with you, a Quarter Quell victor, of all people!" And with that said she grabbed the champagne bottle and rushed angrily off to her room, resisting the urge to stomp every step of the way (her mother taught her better manners than that). She did allow herself a door slam.

Back in the living room, Haymitch gave a large relieved sigh. After a few moments, he clicked off the TV. She'd be fuming for at least an hour, he estimated, and lunch wasn't likely to happen before she'd calmed down. He could fit in a nice nap (and yet likely miss the nightmares that came with longer amounts of sleep) in the meantime.

"Finally, some peace and quiet," he murmured to the empty room as he rearranged himself into a more comfortable sleeping position on the couch. "Can't imagine what poor bastard would ever put up with her, no matter what she's hiding under all of that." 

He gave a deep chuckle, and felt sleep start to claim him as he attempted to picture the sucker that would fall for Effie Trinket. Haymitch almost hoped he could meet the guy, if only to warn him of his impending doom. That or die laughing at the fool.

"Next time I should bet good wine on a front-row seat at her wedding," he mumbled as he drifted off. He wouldn't miss that scene for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I crave reading fluff fic of these two (that's practically all I've been reading lately), my brain seems to produce angst and slow burn stuff for me to actually write. Also, as great as multi-chaptered fics are, I've long-since discovered my inability to write them (both because I suck at writing outlines/actually planning stories and because my attention span for fics isn't very long).
> 
> As a result, as I said before, this will be a slow burn collection of one-shots...fluff *eventually* (I promise!), and all the "chapters" will be centered around a particular bet (or bets) Haymitch and Effie made/make with each other. I haven't decided yet whether each bet will be resolved within each chapter, or one chapter will set up the bet and another will show the result.
> 
> In short, the first chapter sets up not only a dynamic of their relationship, but also a structure to this collection...although in truth the resolution to the bet in the first chapter won't be posted until the very end (sorry!). I have also not decided whether the subsequent one-shots will be chronological or not, but am currently leaning towards the former (likely one for every year).
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy! I've got ideas already for subsequent bets, so hopefully new chapters will be up soon.


End file.
